


what seems to fit

by kiriya



Category: Kamen Rider Ex-Aid
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiriya/pseuds/kiriya
Summary: It was a slow realization, with ever increasing certainty, that Parad had become his boyfriend.





	what seems to fit

It was a slow realization, with ever increasing certainty, that Parad had become his boyfriend.

Emu’s not oblivious, and neither are his colleagues. He hasn’t missed the knowing looks and prodding comments from the rest of CR.

Tonight, especially, his friends were obvious. When he hung up his coat to leave, Poppy enthusiastically asked what he and Parad were doing tonight. Even if she didn’t mean anything by it, Emu couldn’t help the nervous color to his cheeks. Poppy just _assumed_ he’d be with Parad, and it made them sound like a couple, something Emu wasn't quite ready to acknowledge. Kiriya’s dimpled grin and the mischievous _look_ in his eyes only made it worse… 

Sometimes, he and Parad go out to the arcade, but tonight, they are staying in, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch with a controller in each hand. It’s familiar, like so many of the nights they’ve shared before, the past few months. 

Parad practically lives with him now. Emu comes home from exhausting shifts to him. They play games together late into the night, curl up in bed next to each other. Even though Parad doesn’t need to sleep, Parad says he just wants to be close to Emu. He wraps his long limbs around Emu and nuzzles his face into the back of Emu’s neck. It makes Emu more at home than his small, dingy apartment ever could. Parad wears Emu’s clothes too, even though, like Poppy, he can materialize whatever outfit he wants.

“They smell like you,” Parad says when he asks, casual, like he’s totally unaware of the effect a statement like that has on him.

It’s all very domestic and boyfriend-like. They’ve fallen into a routine, a comfortable one, where he’s gotten used to Parad’s constant closeness. He and Parad wrapped up onto the couch or in bed together, Parad leaning his head on his shoulder while he cooks, Parad whispering into his ear, about how warm he is or about whatever game they’re co-oping this week. The sensation that makes electricity dance down Emu’s spine, but Emu gotten good at masking the shiver.

Emu hasn’t said anything. He’s so content like this, so at home with Parad here. He’s scared talking about it will disrupt this comfortable rhythm. Emu's not sure how to navigate it. It feels like they’re doing everything backwards and their relationship is many things but _romantic_ has never been one. 

But the way Parad looks at him sometimes, with a wide grin and sparkles in his eyes … Emu wants more. Emu wants to kiss him, or for Parad to finally kiss him.

Emu’s been steeling himself to do it, but whenever he thinks about it, his heart rate starts picking up. His words — he wants to ask for permission — get caught in a bubble in his throat, but never come out.

Emu’s train of thought is broken by the tempo of _Bakusou Bike_ ’s music picking up, indicating their third and final lap. Though it was the Parad’s turn to pick, he picked Emu’s favorite track. Navigating this map was muscle memory. He knows the placement of every right and left turn like does the human body, giving him plenty of time to think. Though Emu’s focused on the top of the screen, he hears the sound of glass shattering — an item box — and a _whoosh_. Parad makes Emu’s bike spin out as he speeds into first place.

While Emu waits for his bike to straighten itself out, he spares Parad a glance. He’s looking at Emu, victorious, with all the delight in the world and it makes Emu’s heart do flips. 

“Parad,” Emu says carefully, before pressing the pause button.

His smile hasn’t faded, nor the glimmer of competitive delight in his eyes. “Yes, Emu?”

Sitting next to each other on Emu’s hand-me-down couch, their thighs and shoulders meet. There isn’t an inch of space between them, but still, Emu leans further into Parad’s space, tilting his face towards his. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Then, there’s no smile on Parad’s face. He stares at him, unblinking for a moment.

Then two.

 Then three.

Four. Emu can see the proverbial buffering wheel spinning around his thoughts. Enough time passes for a flush to creep up his neck and anxiousness to cease Emu’s chest again. He shrinks away. This was a mistake.

 “Uh, I’m sorry. I-“

 Emu can’t finish the apology, because then Parad is kissing him, with fervor that makes his chest burst and his blood rush with warmth. His head swims, partially because his brain is losing its oxygen to Parad’s mouth and partially, it makes no sense. Parad has been inside him, knows every corner of his mind, has lived him with him for months, and they’re _just now_ doing this. Maybe Emu isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.

It’s been a while for Emu — before he started his medical internship and became Ex-aid — since he’s kissed anyone. He doesn’t remember it feeling this way though, exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Parad’s obviously new at this. His kisses start out clumsy, hot and enthusiastic, but his movement against his mouth becomes slow and shy. Testing, experimental, waiting for Emu to react. Parad’s hands on his body are just as diffident, exploring the soft planes of his body with hesitant tenderness Emu finds absolutely intoxicating. There’s a buzz in Emu’s head that doesn’t let him think about much but Parad, Parad, Parad, and _god_ , why hadn’t he been doing this before?

They kiss until they’re breathless, until their limbs are tangled and until Emu's back is against the couch with the familiar line of Parad’s body is pressed all the way into him. Parad’s head of curly, ruffled hair is buried into his shoulder, and Emu can feel his nose in the crook of his arm.

“Parad, you,” Emu stops, needing a moment more to catch his breath and consider if his next words are right. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Parad raises his head and furrows his brow. “Your boyfriend…,” Parad mutters, testing out the sound of the word. Emu can see the wheels turning in his head again.

“It’s just that…,” He starts, before Parad gets too wrapped up in his thoughts, “I spend most of my free time with you, I go to sleep with you, we _live_ together—”

 “I know,” Parad assures him. “I like doing all that stuff with you.”

“And. I want to try new stuff too. Things that boyfriends do,” Emu runs his hand down Parad’s side. “We can take it slow. Figure out what feels right.”

“It all feels right with you, Emu,” Parad says, steady and sure without any of nerves Emu has. Parad presses their hips closer, as if to prove his point. “But we’re just us. Like we’ve always have been. Like we always will be.”

Emu laughs, because even though it’s true, it sounds so cheese-y. Emu’s smart — they both are — but neither of them have the words to describe them. They’re something complicated, real, and intense: a relationship that language never could have predicted. So they just are them. Even though they’ve done everything backwards, it all feels right. Even Emu if can’t find the exact words for the person who fits him perfectly and makes him feel at home just yet, _my boyfriend_ is a good place to start.

“Emu,” Parad whines at him, after his laughter bubbles over.

Emu leans up to kiss him, something sweet but drawn out so that Emu can savor the new feeling of his lips between his own and the victorious feeling of fireworks bursting in his chest.

Together, they’ll figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been in paraemu hell for two years and i finally Let It Out. 
> 
> they don't have enough fluff. 
> 
> hmu on twitter @crossbuiid


End file.
